The Devil Within
by Mione21
Summary: COMPLETE-Severus thinks his apprentice is under some sort of possession. Hermione can't stop herself, and knows if she doesn't have Severus Snape she'll just die. Literally. A tale of lust, love, and experimental magic.
1. Chapter 1

_For those who have heard my rant on WIKTTmisc., I don't want to publish my overtly M stories here. They will be posted at the WIKTTarchives. I may 'sanitize' and post here, but the decision to do that has not been finalized._

_ Please be kind as to provide feedback on what is here. If I offend you with this story, I apologize. There are a instances where Hermione fondles Severus without his consent. I've tried to show that while there is some desire for him, he certainly doesn't welcome it in this particular moment, especially given the venue and his belief that she is acting against her will. Please read on or stop here. _

The Devil Within:

Chapter 1

Concentrating on the number seven cauldron in front of him, Severus Snape registered the entrance of his apprentice, briefly registering the shape of the body that appeared at the door…Female, slight, working robes, with an attempt at plaited hair. The glance was so quick; any novice in dealing with the professor would have thought him oblivious to the intrusion.

This was most certainly not the case.

He just automatically recognized her as a non-threat and therefore ignored her entry all together.

This, he would recognize later, was a rather large mistake.

At the precise moment he added sumac, he felt something brush against his backside. His concentration barely broke in his potion making, thinking that he had misjudged the space behind him for her to operate. Severus noted the step stool being butted against his calves and the light quake of her weight displacement upon it. _Odd_, he thought, _I don't remember giving her any tasks that would even remotely place her near me today. _But that is when he felt her hand slide quite obviously over the curves of his shoulders. He felt the pressure of her fingertips fan out from his spine—defining it as they travelled up to his neck. She caressed his bare skin just above the collar where the starchy fabric and his hairline met. He felt those same fingertips apply pressure to a knot of muscle making his knees all but buckle from underneath him.

"Miss Granger!" A roar erupted from his throat as his hands continued in the process of his art…at a much too critical moment for him to stop, else it be ruined. "Are you completely mad? Remove your hands from me this instant!" the slightest tremble in his fingers registering only to him.

But her hands did not retract. As his hands continued their delicate ministrations, the exact stirring, the pinch of unicorn eyelashes at precisely the instant he felt her fingertips searching to find just the right spot to re-apply pressure. With efficiency of movement, he felt the offending muscle in his neck quiver and release, as if surrendering to her will.

There was a brief moment where she removed her hands, giving her potion's master just enough time to register the thought that she might have come to her senses when he felt her fingertips meet his temples. They softly raked his hair away from his face, banding it together at the base of his neck, then securing the fistfuls of hair with some ribbon.

A bead of sweat escaped his hairline as he continued his task.

This, the culmination of his life's work was not going to be ruined in a fraction of a second-a mere instant. Regardless of what his, from this moment forward, ex-apprentice did or said. He was so close to completing his greatest potion and would not let anything destroy his years of research and hard work.

Damn it, he couldn't even hex her without a chance of tainting his perfect creation.

"Leave me be this instant. As of this moment you are released from your apprenticeship. Get out, damn you." His seething voice, at the point of cracking from an uncommonly high pitch, forced its way into the room past straining vocal chords.

"Well…" Her lips just brushing the curve of his ear; moist heat warming his ear and cheek, "I only wanted to assist you, Master Snape. Saying as I am no longer your apprentice, however, I don't necessarily wish to jump to your commands at this very moment…that is, unless they are to my advantage of course."

_Merlin's balls _he thought to himself when he felt the tips of her fingers tracing his shoulder blades, her thumbs delving deep into the cleft, strumming the piano-wire tendons beneath. He felt her lift her hands back to the top of his shoulders only to apply those thumbs to the same task, each pass intentionally weakening the tension there, while simultaneously increasing the tension in other places.

The room was filled with a sucking noise as he drew a breath through grinding teeth.

It was if he was feeling her fingers trace his achingly hard member through his trousers…the throbbing painful, as the only part of him NOT governed by his will was screaming for freedom, contact and release simultaneously.

Severus steadied his nerves as much as he could, within precisely seven seconds he would have just one minute before the grueling process continued. The brew smelled of success. His eyes focused on the pristine elixir, knowing the hue was exactly as it should be….So far, so good.

Three…two…one…His head pistoned towards her, glowering at her. Instinctively he knew there was something eerily wrong with her; her eyes where blacker than his. Her face was flush and her lips swollen and glossy, as if she was just forced into a kiss to which she finally surrendered. Her eyes were honed in on his lips as she reflexively licked her own.

"What have you done, Miss Granger?" He grasped her upper arms and jostled her lightly, trying to gain eye-contact. When he finally did get her to look at him, she finally spoke.

"I've found a way to gain the entirety of your approval." Her voice was tainted. It was a voice coupled, Hermione's and a faint hint of another. It reached his ear with a heaviness of desire, the words dipping low inside him, coursing through him to find the places where her fingertips met his body.

This was obviously _not_ the same intelligent, innocuous woman who diligently worked beside him, hour upon hour, upon countless hour.

_Not completely, that is. _He instinctively knew that this was some sort of possession…that they were not alone in this otherwise unoccupied room.

"If you don't exit this instant, I will force you out as soon as I am able." He yelled in her face as he pushed her away from his body and at arms length where he released her…_seventeen, sixteen, fifteen seconds_…Severus kept his eyes focused on hers as he centered himself by his station once again. Pointing at the door, He surmised that the look on her face did not bode well.

_When have I ever seen a face as angelic….no, yes and…demonic as that all at once?_ The thought momentarily jarred him, but recovered just in time to continue the next series. Severus' hands worked in tandem at the onslaught of ingredients-A juggling act of the most crucial of ingredients, with a potion that may help most all of the wizarding world if completed successfully.

"Force me…why, Master Snape? You could force me to do so many other things than to leave. Of course it isn't force when something is really, really wanted, now is it?"

It was at this moment when Severus Snape completely underdressed. His robes hanging on the hook on the wall left him in clothes that seemed too tight.

His jacket, vest, shirtsleeves…even his pants all seemed to constrict, the layers failing to inhibit the sensations of her hands.

The tailoring he once thought would make him feel guarded and secure from attacks like the one he once suffered from the Marauders, did nothing to safeguard him from this VERY different attack he was suffering and only served to amplify each movement of her hand.

And those hands toiled away. Her hands unbuttoning every button while still managing to tantalize him through the heavy wool. His hands stirring the complex solution with barely a tremble as his mind reeled. _Hermione's hands…her hands...ooh…mouth. _He felt one hand skirt his ribs and her fingers slowly thrummed over one of his nipples, her lips brushing his earlobe, then her tongue gently coaxing it between her lips as she grazed it with her teeth.

He allowed one hand to grip the table as the other one reached for the vial of the most critical ingredient: Mummy's tears. Murderous thoughts mingled with his professional mind, knowing that one drop too many…or not enough at the precise moment…would be ruinous.

Hermione's mouth seemed to key into this line of thought…only to use it against him—her tongue slithering over his earlobe before exhaling the phrase, "Mmmmmm….do you taste this good everywhere?"

"I demand to know who ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MISS GRANGER!" His voice screeched as he continued working.

"I am who Miss Granger is. I am every bit her, and she me." Her hand continued to work him as her tongue flicked unexpectedly in places that only heightened his arousal against his will.

At that moment, the last ingredient was added but now each quarter turn of the spoon was the last stage in perfecting his creation.

And the one moment of complete concentration that he afforded his potion was punished by the feel of what only could be described as….

_Sweet Hell_.

Her fingers thrummed each button of his waistcoat and delved to find the very tip of his hardness, One fingernail etching his full length until she cupped him with her whole hand.

Finished.

He spun on his heels, grabbing and twisting her wrist away from him, and Severus stepped toward her, pushing her back from his workstation as well as himself. Knowing triumphantly that he succeeded in creating this potion was dulled by this situation, curbed by anger and concern for his—

Hermione acted immediately, and contrary to what Snape expected. He had used his strength to push, and expected her to resist…instead she pulled him toward her...and with this subtle movement she was able to make him lose his center of gravity, dragging him on top of her with little trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

_*WARNING: I do not mean to make light of unwanted sexual advances. This story had some real hate mail last I posted. Please do not read if this type of angst or situation offends you*_

The Devil Within Chapter 2

To have his limbs tangled with his apprentice's was wholly unexpected, to say the least.

"Come now, Master Snape, and let us see if your vast knowledge of how to start a simmer and stir slowly translates between my legs." She breathed into his ear. He felt her hands pushing down on his arse, and as she drew her knees toward his waist, the friction between them was simultaneously exhilarating and utterly terrifying.

His hands shoved off the slate floor and his torso was no longer flush with hers. She had, however, locked her ankles around his waist and as he gripped her knees in order to extricate himself, he noticed, scandalously, that her summer dress robes had pooled around her midsection, leaving her completely nude lower half exposed and the juncture between her legs in perfect alignment with his straining hardness.

Her scent was delicious.

Hermione's arousal and heat saturated through his trousers in the seconds of her…incarceration…of his groin and were creating a euphoria in his brain, but his logic and Slytherin sensibilities screamed and struggled to gain control, and succeeded.

With as much force as he could use without harming her, he pushed one ankle down, and her other ankle up behind his back, unlocking them and giving him a chance to escape.

As he towered above her, Hermione lay at his feet, knees wide and she watched him as he stared at her, panting from the adrenaline and quickness of his springing from the ground. At his hesitation to run from the room screaming, she took the opportunity to smile coyly and slide her hand between her legs, pressing down and languorously stroking herself as she spoke again.

"Tsk, tsk, Professor…you of all people know the importance of timing. And this little spot," she dipped her fingers deep, "would surely be," watching his eyes as she raised her middle finger to her mouth, "the perfect time to experience a little bliss." He did nothing but swallow as he watched her fingers disappear between her lips to suck clean.

Severus didn't even have a chance to blink before she spun onto her knees and stared up from just in front of his bulging trouser front. Her voice sending shivers through his whole body. "I know you probably have never seen me 'that way' before, but I would like to think of myself as persuasive. Perhaps I can sway you?"

Without hesitation, he said flatly, "Yes."

She squealed with delight, and wiggled her hips in anticipation. Then he continued, "Miss Granger, if we are to continue, however, I'll have you know that things will be done _my _way." Severus summoned a chair and pointed at it. "Now sit for me."

Hermione looked from the tip of his finger to the chair and back. Her eyes shone with such passion and in that moment, gaze locked with his, she crawled over to it, spun herself upward and sat, her hands gripping the chair between her legs, and leaned forward in anticipation.

"Now, with you, I'm in the state of mind for a little role playing. Care to indulge my newest fantasy?" His voice took on an alluring drawl that he could only guess would serve its purpose. "We are going to play…bad girl gets detention."

There, he saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. Her breathing became labored and he could see her desperation to continue. "And you have been a very…naughty…girl." He whispered as he approached.

Before she could register the movement, he whipped out his wand, and she found herself bound tightly to the chair. Her wand somehow ended up between his fingertips, and she shrieked indignantly.

As soon as he had Accio'ed her wand, he kept his eyes focused on her, never once turning his back her, he stepped over to the fireplace on the far wall, grabbed a handful of powder without looking at its container, tossed it and screamed into the fireplace, "Dumbledore!"


	3. Chapter 3

_*Swearing and pleading ones case* Not often do we see Severus lose his composure. Here is one of those times. I do not make light of attempted rape. I used the term to show his exasperation and lack of ability to handle this situation. Whether you believe that is what was what Hermione was attempting is up to you. She is under the influence of something unknown and is not acting out of her own free will._

The Devil Within Chapter 3

Severus cursed in a continuous stream in his mind as he waited for the Headmaster to arrive, as he was prone to do in harrowing situations since his early youth. For some reason, the laundry list he compiled filled with insults, derogatory words, and vulgarities was oddly calming. As a tradition…no, ritual, he maintained his calm façade, while the fevered boil of bad words bubbled tumultuously around his brain.

_Minge… Knob…Shit…_

If the mantle wasn't the thick marble it was, there would be dust between his fingers, which were taking on a blue-white tinge from the pressure he was applying to the stone during the excruciating seconds that rolled by.

Even though his eyes were trained on Hermione, he intentionally didn't look in her eyes.

What he caught a glimpse of, without even trying, was more torrid and explicit than any of the fumbling or hurried, awkward encounters he was a party to in his entire past.

As if she knew he would look into her eyes, the most recent and vivid memory that sprung to the forefront was of her pleasuring herself in front of a mirror, watching herself enact what she would do for him if only he was present. "Oh Severus, I want your fingers working their way into me…just…like…this…." She whispered to the mirror as she pleasured herself.

His psyche hissed as he realized that the effect of her looking herself in the eye made him feel as if she was peering at him directly. _Vixen. Minx_. In his mind, he empirically knew without a doubt that she knew this fact, and was exploiting the knowledge to torment him.

By the time he tried to extract his link with her, she was loudly vocalizing her orgasm, accompanied by the wet slapping of her palm as it made jarring contact; frenzied, deep.

His manhood strained, aching and angry that he wasn't buried inside the tight little witch already, while his brain worked on new ways to curse the day he allowed her to become his apprentice.

"I'd like that. If only you'd come closer, I'd be happy to oblige your well-stated request."

Severus looked at her curiously as the flash announced Dumbledore's entry through the Floo. He wanted to kick himself when he realized he began swearing in earnest, out loud, and the last thing he said before his superior stepped in was 'Suck me!".

Dumbledore surveyed the scene, and calmly inquired, "Miss Granger, Severus, what is the meaning of this?" The old wizard approached Hermione and assessed her as he waited patiently for an answer from either one of them. He couldn't help but notice the fully flushed cheeks of the young woman before him, her state of dishevelment and the surprising fact that she smelled intoxicating…which for him, he thought to himself…meant something.

The faint stirrings of something long dormant inside Dumbledore made him analyze if a botched experiment was the reason for his steadily increasing pulse and stirrings of desire.

Without showing his surprise, voicing his thoughts or expressing his growing worry he waited patiently for someone to speak. Albus maintained his hope that this was in fact some side-effect…the heavy scent of arousal, the electricity felt within the room.

"She tried to rape me!" Severus pointed at Hermione, his arm rigid and shaking with rage.

"Miss Granger? Is this correct?" Dumbledore asked as her bonds released her. Instead of bolting from the chair, she kept her hands folded in her lap.

"I just voiced my interest, sir." Hermione blushed like a virgin on her first night. She looked up briefly, and then her blush turned a brighter shade of crimson.

"INTEREST? Albus? She waited until I couldn't move, defend myself or retaliate and she ambushed me. MOLESTED! FONDLED! MANHANDLED! She violated me!" Severus' eyes were wide, the outrage gnarling his features.

Albus noticed that an unattractive dollop of spittle that settled on the crease of Severus' lower lip as he yelled but decided that this was not the time to mention it. Severus' voice cracked uncharacteristically at that last word, and Albus knew that tone. It was the sound of desperation. Of bruised pride. It rang of a truth that was so preposterous that no one would believe, while being utterly and undeniably accurate.

Hermione pouted at the floor, and her small voice responded. "I am sorry. Please don't dismiss me."

Dumbledore held out his hand to help the girl to her feet, which she took gratefully.

"Professor Snape is not going to do that, Miss Granger." Holding his other hand up to Severus in order to stop his protests, "But you will be excused for the rest of the day. Please head down for dinner, now, so I may speak with Severus for a moment."

As soon as the door was closed, Severus rounded on his old superior, "I cannot believe that you would allow-"

"Please, Severus. I believe you." Albus waited patiently as he watched Severus sputter in disbelief. Knowing that getting to the point with Severus was always the quickest way to diffusing his tirades. "I also believe that if this is an ailment or perhaps a curse, then she had no choice."

Severus stood stock still, somewhat deflated at this admission. First, the old man clearly stated that he believed that he was telling the truth. This of course took the wind out of his sails, so to speak. There was a slight niggling, however, that Severus sensed in the back of his mind, that his virility had either been called into question or his masculinity attacked by the comment that what she did was against her will.

_Of course, even an old codger would think that a young witch wanting to bed me would have to be against her will._

When Dumbledore sat in the chair his apprentice just vacated, he fought the urge to shudder. His brain was still picturing her there, moving, panting, whispering things to him, and when Albus sat, his brain substituted his body with her voice.

Severus fought the urge to vomit.

"Severus, I apologize for my wording, but she seems to be afflicted. Perhaps you didn't notice because you were in the room together for what I expect was quite some time, but I noticed a particular scent in the air. Perhaps what you were brewing?"

"Impossible. I have completed my research and have perfected a viable batch of antidote for Lycanthropy." A nod of approval from Dumbledore was his sole reward, and he continued, needing none. "There was nothing in that potion that would explain this.._this." Severus wagged his finger at the chair, and continued wagging it until it pointed at the door through which Hermione left, as if it was providing valuable commentary._

Albus stood and began moving toward the door, and midway he stopped to pat Severus on his still outstretched arm. "I see. Severus, the root of whatever caused this unexpected behavior must be pinpointed. I'm sure that with your apprentice's help, you both will find out the cause and the cure. I'm off to the Great Hall now. Now, would you please accompany an old man and sit at his table?"

With that, Severus lowered his arm and gave a stiff nod as they made their way.

As they entered the Great Hall through the side entrance, Albus noticed that Severus cringed upon seeing his apprentice in her appointed seat, to the left of his seat at the very end of the table. Without hesitation, Severus moved to his seat and abruptly sat. Albus leisurely made his way, catching the scent that danced around the young woman who blushed next to her somber dinner companion.

And a saddened Albus Dumbledore realized with that olfactory confirmation that the poor girl's fate was as good doomed.


	4. Chapter 4

The Devil Within Chapter 4

Each elf in the kitchen was enjoying the extra bustle. The summer holidays were usually a non-event but today something changed. With foodstuffs requested that were both festive and exotic for procurement as well as preparation, the elves were elated that such a task was set for them this day.

They began to chatter about what holiday they had overlooked in wonder.

Professor Vector requested foi gras to begin the meal, with small crisp triangles of toast. Professor Sprout requested steamed asparagus served with sautéed almond slivers and a sweet plum sauce for her appetizer. The list continued: Oysters on the half-shell from Hagrid, strawberries and clotted cream from McGonagall, and Professor Trelawney was the first begin the libations by her request a chocolate liquor and muggle vodka concoction which was finished with a heavy cream. One elf crooned with delight as she snapped it into existence in the most perfect glass—frosty, festive, and large enough to serve two.

The professors at the table each began ordering these things independent of one another, quietly voicing their desire for a special treat, but as the plates began to arrive, murmurs of approval and appreciation became louder and more jovial.

Severus felt the tendons in his neck tighten, hearing the voices to his right become more boisterous while the silence on his left thickened by the second. He refused to look either direction, poised and ready to lash out at his apprentice if she began anything untoward.

In his mind, he ran through several possible scenarios in his head of how she would choose to torment him. A hand under the table, attempting to stroke him to hardness. More whispers in his ear, explicit and meant on undoing his resolve. Hermione hiking up her dress to reveal what little was underneath, lingerie, garters, maybe…perhaps nothi-

A loud slurp of a raw oyster into Hagrid's mouth had the table practically cheering. Sinistra laughed, and teasing a prawn between her lips quipped, "What else have you flicked with that tongue of yours, Rubeus?" Oddly enough, at that precise moment Hagrid looked at her in surprise and noticed a complete lack of sarcasm. And to her delight, when he looked back at her, he was devoid of stammering and decided to use his tongue to tease the next oyster out of its shell and into his mouth.

The noises that began to roll through the hall, the laughing, and interjections signifying good food and appreciated company buffeted Severus and Hermione, in direct opposition with their strained silence. The echoes of an occasional sigh or 'mmmmh' with the meal sounded akin to fingernails across a chalkboard, and he took the opportunity of the clatter to his left to stare at his apprentice.

She had dropped both her utensils beside her untouched plate, and her hands balled up above her cutlery. Albeit brief, he noticed a tremor that shook her small fists before she removed them from view and punched them into her lap.

Her head was still pointing downward, and he assumed this position of shame was a carry-over from their brief encounter and subsequent visitation with the Headmaster. Her hair, plaited and draped over her other shoulder gave him a perfect view of her reddened cheeks. Her face was wet with obvious tears, and briefly, Severus felt jubilant and righteous in her discomfiture.

Then he saw her down-turned mouth.

That pout. _That damned pout_…the one she saved for when she thought no one was looking or when she thought she was alone snuck across her lips…and then to make matters worse, she drew her lower lip between her teeth and chewed it, trying hard to keep her composure in the onslaught of happiness around her.

Severus felt this odd flip low in his stomach. Not a lurch as per se, but an uncomfortable sensation he recognized as his internal alarm. Even though he didn't believe in predictions, he did learn to listen to his senses in his spying days.

Watching these small, practically undetectable movements from his apprentice filled him with a dread he hadn't experienced since his darkest of days. Her small frame strangling an energy so strong she trembled.

When Vector began regaling a first-kiss tale to Professor Flitwick who leaned into her in order to catch every breathy word, Hermione stood abruptly, murmuring her apologies as she made for the door, vanishing into the hallway.

Her eyes, Severus noted, threw many feelings at him in a compact and forceful jolt: Desire. Embarrassment. Frustration. Anger. Confusion. Resentment. Indignation.

Although his apprentice extricated herself rather quietly, it took Severus just a moment or two to realize that he wasn't willing to do the same.

Slamming both hands flat onto the table and launching himself to his feet, he glared down the length of the table, trying to connect gazes with anyone willing to cross his.

"I assumed I was attending dinner, not the feast before an orgy. I take my leave before my eyes are scalded with the images of any of you dropping trow. I'd ask you to feel ashamed, but it appears that you have no shame to be had."

With that, Severus pivoted on his heels and left the hall abruptly.

As he left, he seemed to draw out behind him the remaining traces of that delectable aroma which enticed the room into its libidinous state in the first place.

Shifting glances and sense of sobriety leveled the impromptu festivities and ground the lively conversation to ash.

It was two fifty seven in the morning when Severus felt his stomach trying to gnash its way out of his body in search of food. At that point, he felt he had no choice but to head to the kitchen and eat.

Grabbing his robe and dipping into his slippers, he stealthily made his way to find some relief to his loudly growling stomach. He was hoping that he would be able to whip up something quickly, scarf it down and finally rest before the next day's torment.

He had just belted his robe closed when he saw the petite figure of his assistant in a gauzy nightgown dipping strawberries into a sauce pot on the large stove. She seemed so innocent, dunking strawberries into melted chocolate, then laying them on parchment to harden.

Severus just stood quietly, not wanting to move, observing and trying to rectify how this beautiful, delicate creature could possibly turn into the stealthy, erotic predator that had his body screaming for release within just a few well-placed caresses; He tried to come to terms that the small, happy smile on her face now was also capable of that feral grin she wielded when expressing her explicit desires to him.

One house elf was dragging over a small stool and peeked over her shoulder, saying "Miss Hermione did a very good job." The old elf glanced over her shoulder at him and pointed to a plate on the table. "Miss Hermione fixed you a plate, and used a Stasis spell to keep it warm until you came. She said you would come soon."

Hermione's head craned around to see him, and her blush seemed to spread down her neck and under the modest scoop neck of her garment. Even in her sleepwear, voluminous but weightless, he conceded that it was still a becoming cut for her figure. "I thought you'd like to eat eventually. Although I made it myself, I promise I haven't slipped you a mickey or anything…"

He looked down and was rather intrigued. Without ever mentioning to a soul about his favorite late-night comfort, he saw that she had made him a bubbly toasted cheese sandwich, with a side of soup and some crisps. He sat in front of the plate and waived off the charm noting even more oddly that she had sliced tomatoes wafer-thin and added it to his sandwich.

After poking it, sniffing it, and taking a small bite to test it, he closed his eyes and silently praising the taste of a perfectly toasted, delicious sandwich. The soup must have been from the evening's dinner, but she had charmed it to just the right temperature, and the crisps, well, he would never eat them in front of anyone, but they were his favorite type and perfect accompaniment to his meal. It took him a moment before he snapped his eyes open, scanning for his apprentice, remembering that she had waylaid him once already, but she was sitting across from him, nibbling on one of the confections she had just made. A plate of five were just next to his glass of water, although he had never heard her bring it to him nor place it there.

"Master Snape, I AM truly sorry for today. It was like I was watching someone else…Like I had no control…but said those things" her face turned scarlet, "Touched you that way. I couldn't stop!" She bit another piece off the strawberry, as if she was trying to stop her mouth from speaking. Swallowing she continued, "And the worst part of it all was that I wanted to but kept getting nowhere with you…you amazingly hot and utterly tasty fucking tease-" Her eyes widened in horror as she dropped the small bowl of strawberries, slipping on one as she crushed it underfoot in her haste to run, skidding out of control.

She howled when his hand shot out and steadied her from the fall, not from his grip, but in her desperation to run and hide in sheer humiliation. Her eyes welled over in tears and shouted through her sob, "Why is this happening to me? What is this? Has someone slipped me some variant of Veritaserum? Do you know what is going on?"

She was in a panic. Her explanation, though, was revealing that she had complete recall, still able to access her cognitive functions, but had also tipped her hand that what she was saying and doing was, on some level, part of her consciousness.

There it was, again, that delicious scent he couldn't help but notice as he held her at arms length from him. It surrounded her and enveloped Severus in some inexplicable way, urging him to draw her flush to him or more yet, to ease her onto the table which looked just the right height to…

Without responding to her question, he produced his wand and issued several diagnostic spells, grunting as each one shimmered and then disappeared without result.

Severus tried several simple spells, deciding that even the most basic spell might just do the trick and release her from this predicament.

Finite.

Deletrius.

Recanto.

Then the variants. Then he ran through others he had picked up in his spying days. Then delving his memory for the ones he knew from his Deatheater days. He slowly came to the realization that this was nothing he had before seen, charm nor curse.

He gently let her arm go and she rubbed the freed spot as her eyes begged him to continue. Now he was standing and so she sat in his vacant chair. She followed his every move as he paced, stopped, paced some more, savoring another bite of his sandwich while considering and then casting yet another diagnostic spell. Minutes morphed into an hour, then nearly two. "I love your undivided attention, but I really wish it would be a little more _hands-on_, if you know what I mean." She finally said.

He stopped to glare at her, and noticed that her eyelids were dropping slightly over very dilated pupils. Her face had completely lost any traces of anxiety, and she now eyed him from head to toe and back, subjecting him to an obvious summation.

_"Recedo , tunc , delinquentes. Recedo , seductor , plenus quod dolosus , inimicus rectum persecutor insons insontis.*"_ He watched for any sign of change in her as he spoke these words, and noted nothing on par with what he was hoping to see.

"Was that what I think it was? You honestly think I'm possessed!" She looked at him levelly and continued. "If I do get to ride that cock of yours until I'm senseless, I promise I'll never say 'The devil made me do it,' because I'm not a fan of lying."

Severus made a noise at her comment, part dismissal and part aggravation, then a touch of cough to clear his throat with embarrassment at the thought of her straddling him for a romp. "Honestly, Miss Granger. I do wish to help you. Specifically," he added quickly to clarify, "this ailment with which you have been saddled."

She thought for a moment, then grinned. "Riding. Saddled. Why, Master Snape, have we taken to horseback metaphors to get our points across? I do hope we get to riding crops and rub-downs soon. Speaking of which, I would love for you to use one with a flapper on the end to tease my bare-"

"Enough!" Severus roared in order to stop that train of thought. For her to finish might have a sincerely adverse affect on the closure of his robe.

"Although it seems that you are in control of your cognitive functions, your self-censure is completely disconnected in your brain. Please, Miss Granger, I ask you to attempt some self-restraint!"

Severus could see the struggle in her. She waivered and then seemed to tighten every muscle in her jaw in order to stop whatever retort that had formed on her tongue.

She nodded.

Severus noted that in their exchange, the kitchen elves had removed all the remnants of their visit."I'll escort you to your rooms, since we appear to have finished our late night binge."

Their rooms were just next to each other, as Master and Apprentice rooms typically were. Hers had previously been empty since he began teaching. She was the first apprentice he had ever ventured to allow. It seemed impossible, because of this fact, not to offer to accompany her.

She nodded again and brushed her hands absent-mindedly down her cotton nightdress. Severus couldn't help but notice she was a walking contradiction. Her curvaceous body silhouetted in a nightgown which looked like it was pulled out from some Victorian chest of drawers. Her innocent face being able to shimmer into some…pornographic… expression of lust or ecstasy in one second or less, and her pouty, pink lips being able to work him to frustration and…he was honest with his body…full painfully-stiff hardness with just her words. "After you." He motioned for her to proceed toward their rooms.

As they made their way, Severus kept two steps behind her. He needed to keep an eye on her, as well as not walk right beside her.

There were two reasons for this positioning, of course. The first reason was simply strategic, being that he wanted to keep her in the spot of disadvantage from an attack standpoint. If she trailed behind him, she could _assail_ him with the element of surprise. His second reason, however, was the fact that he didn't want her to see the certain tell-tale sign of his arousal through his robe. _Shameful_, he admonished himself. _But seriously, how else is a man to react to a beautiful…stop this, man…woman who in no uncertain terms expressed her willingness and desire to perform some slightly kinky and certainly provocative activities with him as the center of her attentions. _

Unfortunately, this positioning had its downside. Her delectable scent eddied in her wake, and he was buffeted by this increasingly addicting aroma. He tried shaking his head, moving further off center from her, holding the sleeve of his robe directly to his nose to no avail, since the essence had impregnated every fiber of clothing he wore.

He jarred himself to a complete halt, just centimeters from her body, not noticing they had already reached their destination. When she spun, his proximity elicited a small squeak from her. Even in her current state, she was able to recover quickly, remembering his request.

She wrung her hands together and whispered to his slippers, "I am truly sorry, Master Snape. I would have never let my feelings be known." She struggled, wincing her face, "I'm wholeheartedly sorry to have invaded your personal space and subjected you to any unpleasantness." With a quick glance, she followed, "Thank you for helping me."

Drowsy from the late-night snack, somewhat complacent with the disintegration of spatial boundaries from working closely as Master and apprentice, and being pre-occupied from her perfume, scent, aroma, however he tried to categorize it, he made almost no effort to move when she went to place a small, chaste kiss on his cheek in gratitude, less a small shirk of his head.

The movement, however infinitesimal, managed to place the kiss not only on his cheek, but also on the corner of his mouth.

He felt the shocks through every sinew, the mounting of pleasure in every nerve ending she tantalized with her kiss. Her mouth connected with some part of him other than just his lips. Her actions reached deep in his brain and it sent waves of bliss throughout his entire body that he had never before experienced, the sheer demand of his need, his want welling from unplumbed depths .

Tugging, carressing, their bodies connected in millions of pinpoints, dovetailing their bodies into one. Engorged and throbbing with pumping blood, his member pressed insistently against her, stroking the juncture between her legs slowly but firmly through their garments. His body wanted her-not in some frenzy, but in some ancient design and archaic tempo which was sure, slow, and complete as time.

Her whimpers and moans sent vibrations of desire through his brain like some rung chapel bell, aftershocks continuing after each one.

The energetic, wordless exhortations he was eliciting from the impish woman in his grasp urged him further, spurring him to get a firmer hold of her. Hermione's voice filled the hallway with a cry of delight when his mouth lifted briefly to gaze into her eyes before tilting and reconnecting his lips with hers in their circuit.

His next rational thought was how he had somehow nudged her against her door, one hand cradling the back of her knee, hoisting it somewhat above his hip, with the other hand tilting her chin upward in order to deepen the kiss. Suddenly he felt her hand, skin on skin in his pajama trousers and suddenly it was too much. Too real.

His mind glommed onto the fact that the reason they were entwined was wrong. Artificial. Based on someone else's power. He could not compound this assault on her.

Unbeknownst to her, he spent the next several moments trying to pry himself from her, but with every ebb, she flowed, with every twist, she countered, a pull to every push, and each small movement making him dizzy, heady, with her pleased, delirious vocalization, each more appealing than the one before.

Her body was the perfect fit for his. For this. He just knew it. The sweetness of promise was excruciatingly painful, feeling the perfectness of the 'what' disjointed with sheer...wrongness in the 'how' of it all.

Finally, extricating himself from an embrace of his own initiation, he held her shoulders firmly against the door, repeating, "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, I'm sorry. No." Her whimpers of protest turn plea.

"No, no, no, shhhh, please." Her hands tugging at the knot in his belt sash, trying to reestablish their caresses. Her eyes held a worried, anguished sheen and he could see her hopes and desires crumble in the distance between their bodies.

"We may continue working on curing this ailment tomorrow. I'm sorry for establishing this liaison. It was wrong of me." In record speed, he swept away from her and into his chamber with a jarringly loud slam.

He could hear her stifled cries of frustration as she stood in the hallway, until finally he heard the tell-tale creak and locking of her door.

He silently fumed as paced his chambers.

Severus had trodden self-hatred underfoot after the war, finally allowing himself to rectify his past actions with a near death experience to level the scales. What he had yet to come to terms with was his anger management issues and his overtly keen sense of persecution.

He was once again, to be a pawn in another person's game, and he felt the black ink of rage surface in his mind. He tamped the half-formed tenets in his mind of another relationship being adversely affected by some other person's wishes, not wanting to probe those still acute feelings just waiting for the opportunity to be revisited, categorized and analyzed.

He stripped off his clothes and showered quickly, roughly sloughing himself clean in the most business-like manner. Once he was done, he donned his clothing for the day, realizing that there would be no sleep tonight.

Severus swept through the halls and flew toward the library, hell-bent on pinpointing this affliction and making the source of it pay most dearly.

_*Is a loose translation of an excorcism exerpt. In English, the words mean "Depart, then, transgressor. Depart, seducer, full of lies and cunning, foe of virtue, persecutor of the innocent." If anyone cares to Latin-pick this and send me a better translation, then I'd be eternally grateful._

_I understand that some may not agree on what the characters are doing or why they do it, but I only hope that you'll give them (and me) a wide berth to bring the story to fruition. It is my hope that, in the end, you will be pleased with where the story takes you._

_Every review matters to me. I appreciate that you thought enough of the story to take time and let me know your thoughts!_


	5. Chapter 5

The Devil Within Chapter 5

Aloof was one term people used to describe him. Others might pro-offer that he was a user of men, bending and swaying them like sapling trees. But uncaring, well, he would beg to differ. There were times when he truly fretted, although he would never admit it.

Pacing didn't help, wringing his hands didn't either, so he stood like a sentry by his desk looking at nothing in the picaresque view of the school's landscape. He was truly concerned for not only Miss Granger, but for his, for lack of better description, friend. It was impossible to tell Severus face-to-face what this affliction was, because he himself was hardly able to come to terms with once being a victim and only known survivor of the spell.

For him to tell Severus and Hermione what this, for lack of better term 'curse' truly was, would mean that he would have to tell them how to counter it. He knew what that knowledge would do to Severus, as well as Hermione. And what it would do to them if they didn't counter it. If they asked how he knew, he would have to tell them about the spell's creator, and the creator's victims, and how only he was able to survive.

The two things he didn't know was how knowledge of the _curse_ survived, and how it came to be that Hermione Granger had become afflicted.

Old age did nothing to damper the surge of emotion that he still felt for his attacker. The feeling of betrayal. The confusion. The physical agony and embarrassment of it. The humiliation. His all-encompassing love and unending desire.

The creator of this curse was also the one who cursed him. That same assailant was ultimately his salvation by curing him of it as well.

Alone, in all senses of the word, Albus allowed himself to weep.

The tome Severus grabbed this time was on the very bottom shelf of the restricted section. The leather bound book was covered in a thick blanket of dust which Severus peeled off and dropped like some dirty handkerchief.

For him to look at every book seemed an impossible task, so he picked only the ones which he thought best covered this type of magic, and/or from authors he knew researched this type of situation.

While looking for a specific spell, potion or curse, was usually a relaxing task for him, this was not a usual situation. Severus' body jerked with a nervous energy he was barely able to contain. His mind whirred and created tenets of thought at break-neck speeds, knowing that time was of the essence.

Although Severus was typically the spokeman for restraint, he felt his defences had taken a very critical hit. He honestly wondered how long he could last under this with his skills as Occlusion, how was he to fend off this woman when his whole body was conspiring to overthrow his restraint? How was he to countermand her induced persuasiveness…that body…coupled with that exciting and ever over-achieving mind to sweeten the allure?

He began with a critical eye, spotting the entries that pertained to obsession, crisscrossing aisles and compiling titles at the longest desk in the center of the library. Not only did he believe that he would need the space, but the sun would be breaking soon, and the dome above, an intricate skylight, would give him the necessary light for hours of heavy reading he knew he was destined to do today.

If he was going to help the girl, he wasn't going to ruin his eyesight to do it, he frowned, damning the situation again. Scanning the desk after about an hour of scouring the titles, he sat down with no less than forty books to begin his task with a protracted huff.

That was when he sensed the girl by scent alone.

He looked up and noticed her. She had also showered, and dressed in a simple, plain dress, a summer weight sweater buttoned up to the neck and flat shoes. She had pulled her hair tight and twisted it into a bun, secured by her wand in some asian-inspired way, he begrudgingly noted. He had seen wands come from some interesting places in his lifetime, but there, in her hair, seemed appropriate, and oddly attractive in a novelty kind of way.

He frowned, slamming his elbow down on the table before resting his cheek on his fist, looking very much like a pouting brat as he scanned the page without reading. _That witch_, he thought to himself, _will there be no end to this distraction?_

It took him three attempts at reading to absorb one sentence without wondering if her hair would fall about to frame her face if he were to lightly tug that wand from it. _And damn it all to hell, she smells even better than a few hours ago_, This was worst part of the curse for him, since it was her scent which drove him to paint the walls with her backside as he shamelessly dry humped her in the hallway. Severus cringed at the thought.

"Sit over there and if you would, please start reading, Miss Granger."

Hermione couldn't help but notice that when he spoke, he pinched his nose, making her name sound almost comical. Quizzically, she looked at him as he blatantly buried himself in the text, never removing his pinched fingers.

Touching her chin to her shoulder, she tried to mask a sniff, wondering if she smelled bad. She admitted to herself that at times she was forgetful, but she was certain that she put on her deodorant before dressing this morning.

Watching him pinch harder, and shrinking behind the large book he was now using as a sort of barricade, she cupped her hand over her mouth and let out a puff of breath, sniffing that too. Nothing…her self-consciousness plummeting while her ire counterbalancing made her finally speak.

"WHAT! Why are you doing that? Do I smell that bad?" Her complaint was shrill in his ears, but since he could now _taste_ her due to breathing through his mouth, he had to stop and address it.

"You don't smell bad, but you do have a scent that is quite noticeable and unique." Severus skirted the truth as best as he could. "And it is distracting."

"Oh gods," Hermione moaned, "Is there no end to this sodding…thing?" Sitting at the table, she rolled her head from side to side on her crossed forearms, bent over in mortification. "Can't the earth just break wide open and swallow me up whole?" Then she looked up. Forgetting what she just said, she lifted her head and leveled her gaze at him asking plainly, "_What_ do I smell like?" She waited silently.

Shocked, he answered, "I'm not sure."

Hermione carefully weighed what he said. Noticeable. Unique. Distracting. And he also mentioned that it wasn't a bad smell. She then remembered how oddly all of the professors were all acting at dinner, and thought that perhaps the smell was a positive one, if this idea was even remotely correct.

Finally, she recalled with pinpoint accuracy how he was breathing hard as he drew her close to him, constantly breathing in deeply through his nose as he kissed her, ran his lips slowly over her neck…her body started reacting with this memory, her mind recalling his hardness stroking her…_Stop. Just stop, and think analytically, _she reprimanded herself.

"Amortentia? Does it smell like any of those scents for you?" Hermione asked, beginning her process of elimination.

"No." Severus answered, completely avoiding the explanation that this scent was ultimately better than even those scents.

"Is it body odor? Do I smell-" Hermione blanched, slightly, "Well, since you've already seen me in quite the delicate position on your floor…" As strong as she was, she couldn't finish reminding him that she slowly masturbated at his feet. "Does it smell like that?"

She knew that just being around him made her aroused, but she would never be able to leave her rooms if she thought that everyone around her could smell her arousal. Her hand covered her mouth, as if waiting for bad news.

Severus covered his eyes with the palms of his hands, rubbing hard at them trying to mentally erase the image of her open to him at his feet, literally begging him to take her.

"No, and yes." He responded, "You don't smell like sex, or secretions as per se." He tried to say the sentence clinically, but found his body reacting to the recall of her arousal and that distinct scent which had his mouth watering for a taste. Finally, he found his voice to finish, "But you do smell…like you…just amplified."

"Do you think the others smell it too? The other professors?" Hermione choked on the words but bore them to the world.

Stunned again by his apprentice for the second time within the hour, he looked at her plainly and said. "Perhaps that was what the other professors were picking up on and acting accordingly. Although they may not have attributed it to you directly. You are, after all, their pride and joy." She scanned his face for irony or cruelty but found none. Her heart fluttered and she had to swallow hard to keep her composure.

"Not all of them ." She protested.

"No? Oh, that's right. But Trelawney thinks passing gas is a worthy occasion to drink, so she doesn't count."

Sputtering, Hermione felt the tension in her body evaporate, and she truly laughed in delight.

Severus viewed her in her mirth, and realizing that he had been the one to make her eyes crease in merriment, that he had made her genuinely laugh, made something in him feel like he was soaring. But in that brief second, his anger swooped in, the black bird of prey in his mind, piercing that feeling with its sharp talons, tearing it to pieces.

"I want to smite whoever did this to you." Severus blurted out, in a voice as certain and as cold as death.

Her laugh stopped abruptly, and emotions played over her features.

"You'll do no such thing…I reserve that right."

Weighing her words, he silently gave her one nod, and returned his attention to the book before him.

She watched him intently, angling her head this way and that, taking in the man before her.

Hermione felt the rages of the curse inside her now, the desire to push all the books of the table as she climbed up on all fours. She wanted to hear his voice as he told her how he wanted her to move, how she felt as he took her, and she wanted he hear what noises he made as he spent himself inside her.

She shifted in her chair uncomfortably, her nerve endings on full alert, but her mind knowing that there was no relief in sight. Hermione crossed her legs and could feel the throb of expectancy between her legs, every movement she made making her wetter and needy.

Before she knew it, she found herself standing, making a decision on how to best to rid her Master of his clothing when she heard the doors to the library open and shut.

They both shot glances at the door to see who was there with them when they noticed Madame Pince slowly make her way in. The woman, a veritable battleaxe in the library hobbled her way to their table, noting the disarray.

Instead of chastising them, she smiled, much to both Severus and Hermione's shock.

"My two favorite students and their beautiful minds, working together." The strange look of wistfulness on her face was utterly out of place from the pinched scrutiny she usually wore. "Never a better match has there ever been."

Finally abreast of Severus, Madame Pince patted his shoulder and asked him quietly, "I'll leave you two to your work. Please look after my library, would you, Severus?" Her hand stayed there on his shoulder and she gave it a light squeeze. "Hermione, please be a dear and shelve when you are done?"

Hermione's mouth dropped, and then she snapped it shut to nod her reply.

"Thank you. No hurry," The old woman shuffled toward the large doors. "I've decided to take the day off. It is nice to know the place is in good hands."

The puzzled pair watched her in silence, like some eerie specter floating away from them.

As soon as the doors were closed, Hermione snapped her head toward him. "Oh gods. Was that because of the smell?"

The look he gave her was unsettling. Severus looked miserable, and Hermione grew alarmed at the possibilities.

"Bubblehead charm. I won't be offended if you use one."


	6. Chapter 6

The Devil Within Chapter 6

"Nonsense. I'll do no such thing." Severus glared at her. "Since I've taken you on as my apprentice, I also assumed a responsibility for your care and well-being. I knew this when I offered you the position."

"I don't understand what one has to do with the other." Hermione replied, trying to surmise his point.

"If I don't know what it is doing, whether it be to myself or others, how in the blazes am I to help you. What if it changes? Wanes? Strengthens? I won't be able to analyze it if I protect myself, especially since we are trying to classify it solely based on its side-effects."

Hermione scoffed, "You would never do that with a potion, Master Snape." She wrinkled her nose in her own snide way.

"You are _not_ a potion. You are my _apprentice_. That in itself should not only stress your importance, but also explain my reasoning to decline." His eyes were acutely trained on hers as he stifled an urge to close gap between them. "And I will strangle you with my own hands should you repeat that."

Without waiting for her to respond, he continued. "And as for our research in pinpointing your ailment, I will be the one who dictates what you will focus on, so there are no gaps and no overlaps until we find a possibility. At that point, we will delve into the specifics of that possibility until we find it is, or isn't the source as quickly as possible."

Severus pushed a stack of books toward her, "Your focus for now is lust spells. When you are completed with those books, cross them off of this list." He centered the scroll on the table to show her two columns, detailed on which books they've already covered, and others he wanted to scan.

As he leaned over her to expound on the list, Hermione twisted in her seat, fisting the robes on either side of his buttons. Her legs flexed as her back scraped the edge of the table, dragging her Master along until he was on top of her on the table.

"I haven't seen one illustration all morning long. Care to enact a few?" Her hands moved to his face, firm but gentle, and she pressed her lips to his, opening her mouth slightly, smoothing his lips with hers, then angling for a tentative swipe of her tongue between his lips.

"Apprentice Granger, this will not happen," he mourned as he pushed away, his lips being the last part of him to break contact. "Not as long as you are under this affliction, and not while you are my apprentice. I take my oaths and responsibilities, as you well know, seriously, and will follow them through until the bitter end."

Her eyes glistened, "I know, Master Snape, but you make it impossible for me to control myself. She stood shakily, accusations forming, "You look like that, smell like that, talk in those tones with THAT voice," her voice rose several octaves, "And I am supposed to control myself?"

She continued, "You tell me you care, and I am to wonder if that platonic affection can change to something more or not?" The streaks of tears refused to stop as she smacked them away in her anger and pain, "And then you stand so close that I can feel the heat from you, your scent is my goddamn Amortentia! That's why I mentioned that potion to you. Goddamnit, you smell like mine!" And she stopped dead still.

"Sorry. I'm sorry" She tugged herself back together. "Just keep your distance, I beg you. It feels like a boiling cauldron deep inside me and when you are too close, it boils over. I can't contain myself."

He took two paces away from her, and assessed her words. Even in his surprise at what she said, the greater shock was that he knew she meant every word.

"Miss Granger, I am wholly sorry that this is happening to you. I am angered that you are subjected to this type of humiliation." He continued, "As you know my history, you surely know I have suffered cruelly at the hands of others.

"I know how painful that type of…" he searched his vocabulary, "abuse can feel."

Unbeknownst to her, and surprisingly to himself, Severus Snape had changed enough after the war to make small changes in his perception about life. Although he had few opportunities to make personal connections and be forthcoming, he was still able to recognize an opportunity. He could see the turmoil this situation was causing her, and knowing how private she was with her personal life in general, he assumed that what was happening was truly devastating to her.

She made to look away, but he held up his hand, "Wait. And as for what you are saying to me, I do not take it lightly. I will never repeat any word to another living soul. I will never ridicule you for your feelings toward me." He ignored the tremble of her lower lip.

Severus spoke slowly, stressing every word for her to weigh carefully. "I must confess...no other person on this earth has ever spoken so positively about me. Ever. Even if it was against your will, if that is how you view me, I am... flattered...and humbled. I tried to be gentlemanly and ignore it, but I see now that you do need some sort of explanation for my refusals. Some validation. I hope that this will help in some small way."

There was a brief moment where they just stood, looking at each other, and the awkwardness of it made both bristle. "I will see to a brunch of some sort, and we will eat in this room. I will also see to it that all of your meals will be separate from the staff until we ascertain what your affliction is. I will stay with you through this as much as possible-until such times as I feel it necessary for us to distance ourselves temporarily."

Hermione nodded, and noticed the door behind her Master open again. As Severus moved, disappearing between the bookshelves to make preparations for their extremely late morning meal, Hermione saw the one man she wanted to see least.

Ronald Weasley peered around the door, scanning quickly until her saw Hermione at the head of the longest table. He whispered, "Hermione!" Looking around for Madame Pince, he looked almost afraid for the old woman's retribution.

Once he spied her, he added, "I got out early from training, for a lunch break. Do you have some time?"

Hermione looked around for Potions Master, and not having him around for a scapegoat, she gave him a curt nod.

"Have you thought about what we talked about?" Ronald began.

"Is that what you call what happened?" Hermione replied tersely. She kept scanning the room, searching out Severus, but her eyes could not spy him. "I don't remember any talking, Ronald Weasley."

"Come on, Hermione! It was a misuderstanding-" Ronald's neck burst into a bright red blush that began creeping toward his face.

"A misunderstanding implies that the conversation was…." She stopped her monologue and changed tack, realizing that this wasn't the time for a lecture. "When I said that we were through, I meant it. End of story."

"You can't mean that, we've been through too much." Ron pressed his finger onto the table and tapped it several times to stress his words in the otherwise silent room.

"YOU are RIGHT. We've been through TOO much. I'm finished. While someday we might be able to be cordial with each other, your tirades and outbursts, oh, and pettiness make it hard for me to want to even retain our friendship, let alone anything more." Hermione made sure that she was giving the glaring man wide berth, so she'd be able to see if his movement would betray any retaliatory actions.

"I am sorry, Hermione. When you told me we were finished the other day, I didn't mean to imply-"

"You didn't mean to imply that I'll never be quite as good as I could be without YOU around? That whatever I do, I'll end up some frigid old crone, just because I didn't want to let you into my bed? What? That I was a whore, because women don't break up with men without someone else in line? " Hermione picked up her book and then shoved it under her arm, locking it in place.

"Ron, get the fuck out of here, and leave me alone."

"Please, Hermione." Ron's voice was quiet now, ignoring her last sentence. "I am sorry. Can we just…take a walk and talk for a bit? Once around the lake. Please? I don't want our lose our friendship on top of everything else."

Hermione hung her head, conceding to the fact that she didn't want to lose his friendship, since they had quite a history and did share so much together. "Once around, Ron. But first, you have to admit that as a couple, we are through. If you can say it, I will go with you."

Ronald Weasley mulled over the concession, but then agreed. "Fine. It is official. You and I are no longer dating. Now can we walk?"

Hermione grabbed a sheet of parchment and scribbled a quick note, folding it and blowing a puff of breath over the origami bird sending it into flight toward her instructor before leaving.

The little bird didn't need to go very far.

Casting a silencing charm over the paper, he opened it and read:

_Please give us ten minutes, and then come to the lake. Just in case. And no matter what, make sure I leave there with you. Thank you for your assistance with this. Yours very truly, Hermione _

There it was, and now all the tumblers fell into place, unlocking the door to this affliction. Severus stepped backward from his location amongst LU and headed to LO.

His mind screamed that this was a love spell, and that it was cast by that cretin.

Of that, Severus would stake his life.

The very first book in that section was sitting on a recently cleared shelf, and had no markings as to its place in the library. The writing on the binding, he noted, was of a unique and utterly distinguishable hand. A note was written on a marker tucked close to the binding, and Severus opened to that page with anger bordering on murderous.

Severus-

I am so sorry. Please see me if needs be.

Albus

Severus quickly scanned an obviously detailed and methodical account. Every moment chronicled. Every symptom laid before him. Everything.

There was also a list of names. Victims who succumbed to the spell, in one column. Only one in the second, a lone survivor.

On the next page was a personal memoir from the victim's view. Severus used every fiber of self-control not to set the book on fire in his rage. He tucked the small book into his robes and took off running as fast as his legs would allow.

"Fool girl!" Severus bellowed as he realized that they had made it just outside the school's wards on the outer edge of the lake. He made it just in time to see Ronald and Hermione screaming, and although her back was turned to him, he could hear her voice booming over the red-head's.

The sneer the younger man twisted onto his face was a tell-tale sign that Ron realized Hermione's duplicity, communicating not only where they would be, but that she didn't think the conversation would go well to Snape. His betrayal made the young man even more blind with anger.

Severus drew his wand and made it three quarters of the way to them as he saw the younger man grasp Hermoine's upper arm. Just before he got in range to separate the two, he witnessed Hermione's attempt to spin out of the Weasley boy's grasp, her face awash with fury mixed with repulsion as they both vanished before him.

Severus was the next to Disapparate, deciding that the Burrow was the only place that imbecile would take Hermione to finish their battle.


	7. Chapter 7

The Devil Within Chapter 7

Severus Snape could find absolutely no humor that he stood on what he assumed was Ronald Weasley's wand, reduced to matchsticks sized splinters. In fact he was a very angry man. Angrier still when he couldn't even hesitate to enjoy the sight of one Hermione Granger slapping the ever-living-daylights out of a Weasley.

As Severus charged to the scene, he noticed a large ginger blur wearing nothing but a towel racing in the same direction from the still swinging kitchen door in a lightening quick interception course, heading right between the quarreling couple and him.

Within earshot, Severus bellowed, "Your dolt brother has cursed her!" which brought the elder brother skidding to a halt, his still wet feet skidding in the grass. Closer than Snape to them, Charlie loped toward Hermione and Ron, grabbing a handful of auror robes between Ron's shoulder and neck, dragging him backward and lifting Ron up to his tiptoes.

"Hermione, is this true?" Charlie growled, searching her haunted face. His grip tightened on the cloth as his other hand slapped over the part of the towel which threatened to come untucked. Charlie punctuated his sentence by giving his brother one hard shake as he waited for Hermione's confirmation. Snape noted how Ron looked like a kitten in its mother's mouth by the way Charlie had him dangling.

Charlie didn't need to wait for a reply as he saw Hermione's bloodshot eyes, her body trembling with an anger she couldn't contain. "You are a real fucking asshole, Ron…stupid, stupid prick." He screamed in his brother's ear as he dragged him.

Severus wanted to offer Hermione some small comfort, perhaps put his arm around her or offer her some reassurance, however, because of her plea for his distance, he stood quietly until she began the trek towards the open door.

Molly Weasley was yelling at both boys, angered at the discord that had just swept into her meal preparation area, and noting Charlie's lack of attire, swished her wand at him immediately after Hermione barged into the kitchen, slamming right into Charlie's bare back, thus knocking Ronald into a sprawl on the kitchen table. Charlie's reflexes had Ronald accosted and dangling within the second.

"What is the meaning of this, Severus?" Molly hollered over the commotion, Charlie up righting Ron forcefully, taking his opportunity to jostle him one more time.

Severus could barely contain his jealousy as he saw Hermione walk over to Charlie to pat him on the back, then keep her hand there as she murmured to him, asking the burly, muscular and altogether too handsome brother gently to release the dunderhead.

"Molly, if what I believe is true, then Ronald has just handed Hermione a death sentence."

"What!" They all screamed at the same time, an eerie silence following Snape's declaration.

And Severus was towering over the young auror-in-training, as he shoved his hand into his robes, yanking the small book from them and shoving it in the boy's face.

"Was it this spell? Was it _'Geist der Wahrheit' _Mister Weasley? WAS IT?" Watching Ron's jaw drop was all he needed before he cracked open the book to the middle.

"Within four days, the subject writhes in agony, begging for relief, and cries out for the object of his or her affections, attempting without success to mollify their sexual urges with self-gratification unsuccessfully…" Ronald blanched.

"Or is this what you intended, Mister Weasley, 'On day five, the subjects lay, spent from their failed attempts at relieving their frustrations, refusing both food and water. Distraught and broken from not being able to locate and/or receive the attentions of their beloved, the subjects, either by the nature of the spell, or their desperation to alleviate their agony and longing, either commit suicide by turning their wands on themselves or die from their hearts literally giving out.'"

Molly Weasley had pushed the trembling Hermione into a chair and began the myriad of nursing spells she used to keep her large family well upon her, for lack of better words, ex-daughter-in-law-to-be, and Molly moaned as she shot baleful looks at her son. "Severus, her heart rate is alarmingly fast…" she spoke, although she wasn't quite sure if anyone was listening.

Simultaneously, "It's not like that! I SWEAR! I didn't mean to…" Ron tried to defend himself as Severus continued without stopping.

"Or how about the only survivor's account: 'I was helpless to assist the others, knowing that the only times I felt an ease to the suffering was when I was in the caster's presence. Although he sprung his experimental spell on us during his party as a joke, he was unawares as how to, or perhaps intentionally unwilling to reverse the spell.'" Severus was spitting out the words at Ron, who kept insisting that he didn't know.

"And when he was around, I couldn't contain the feelings or thoughts I had for him, and at every opportunity presented, I attempted to have him sexually, constantly pleading with him, touching him, and I was powerless to hold back from telling him just how much he meant to me, how much I loved him, how much I absolutely loved him even though he cast such an excruciating curse over us."

And here is more for you to ponder, Mister Weasley, "I wanted to hate him, but had no choice but to want to feel him inside me, wanting to taste him. Wanting him to spill his seed deep in me in order to make me feel like I wasn't going to die. And then towards the end, when the others were literally dying around us, and he knew he was going to lose me too, he finally kissed me, and in his admission that he felt the same about me, he took me into his arms, and he made love to me, which I believe saved me from the certain fate of all the others."

Severus screamed directly in the sniveling younger man's face, "The survivor, you damned fool, was another man. And if THIS is the spell you cast on her, then she…will…die."

By this point, Charlie had called his father home through the floo, and he stepped into his kitchen disconcerted by the scene.

Ron looked to Hermione, looking as if he had figured out the solution. "Hermione! There is still hope! I love you, and if you'll just admit your feelings for me, we can go upstairs right now-"

Hermione walked up to Ron and slapped him again-hard across the face as she spoke slowly, "You never get to touch me again. You had better get that into your thick skull. If you do, the last kiss I'll ever get will be from a Dementor."

"And truth be told," Hermione continued as Severus tried to thwart her, repeating her name over and over, louder and louder as she continued, "while I did care deeply for you, I realized I never was attracted to you…"

Severus tried to interrupt her by asking Charlie to pull Ron out into the yard, but Hermione just followed behind them, her anger and the truth pouring out violently. "And although we went through the motions, sorry Molly and Arthur," she called over her shoulder as she kept her eyes trained on Ronald, "but even when we did have sex, in my mind I wasn't fucking you."

Charlie, red with embarrassment at the subject matter, pulled his brother and tried to gain some ground, but even with his strength, he was unable to put much space between them and a very determined witch.

At her top volume, she screamed, "And that one night when we were both completely drunk, and I finally came with you? Remember? It was because I glamored you to look like Severus."

Everyone stopped and stared at her now.

The Weasley parents then looked to Severus Snape in disbelief and then back to Ron, who pried himself free from his brother and tried to lunge at Hermione, but Charlie was too quick, knocking Ron to the ground, flipping him over and knocking him out cold before anyone else could protest, and before Hermione made good with her threat.

Hermione turned to face the group and said, "I'm tired and had better eat before I end up refusing food and water. Whoever thought it was funny to say 'I'll sleep when I'm dead.' probably didn't say it knowing he only had three days left."

And with that she Apparated.

Molly and Arthur stood by Severus and he could see their pleas written on their faces, wanting to understand.

"I am the object of her affections for some reason. But I swear on my own life, right now in front of you as witnesses, that I will never touch her while this spell courses through her. Your son, I realize, is even less worthy of her than I am, believe it or not."

"Severus, we are truly sorry, to you and Hermione." Arthur responded to the statement.

Molly, the heart of the couple, didn't want to lose another child, even though Hermione was only hers by will, not blood. "There must be some way to reverse the spell…Give me that book!" She began reading as soon as it was softly placed in her hand. As she continued flipping pages, skimming quickly, she slumped into the nearest chair. Her eyes glazed, her body tensing as she continued, and looked up when her youngest boy pushed his way into the kitchen.

Charlie walked in behind him, shadowing. Molly looked up at Ron and spoke. "It is true. This is terrible. Why would you resort to this, son?" Her eyes were wet, and she truly wanted an answer. She sat quietly and waited.

"Mum, I just wanted her to admit her true feelings to me. When Bill and Charlie came home to visit for the holidays, Bill said he got a new book from Gringott's as a reward for disarming all the curses on a vault which lease had expired. You know how he loves his rewards. It was in that book, but didn't say anything about this…." he held his hands up, trying to sum up the recent situation.

"Well, Ronald Weasley," Severus growled, "If I were the opportunist I was in my youth, I'd 'cure' her in a second. And if I was the sadist I was once, while I defiled her in order to reverse this curse, I would MAKE YOU WATCH as I did it." Ronald went from pale to green. His parent flinched at the words, but stared disapprovingly at their son, who deserved to hear this.

"But I am no longer that man, and even with that being said, I am still unworthy to touch that beauty. And you, sir, are even less worthy." Severus poked Ron in the chest once before turning to the door.

"And if we are unable to find an alternate cure, one other than me engaging in sexual relations with her because of YOUR curse, then I intend to bring this incident to the Minister and have you locked away for the rest of your useless life."

Severus changed his mind and Apparated where he stood, instead of taking the few steps to the outside, which would have been a little more respectful. Severus wasn't feeling that generous, but Molly and Arthur could understand.

"Get out of my sight, Ronald Weasley!" Molly whispered in a rage. Her boy ran from the room and out of sight, she didn't care to wonder where, though.

And when she looked at her husband, alone in their expansive kitchen, she finally wailed, "Severus Snape has just proven that he is more deserving of Hermione than our own son!"


	8. Chapter 8

The Devil Within Chapter 8

Small book in hand, Severus suddenly appeared in the closest apparition point to the school.

Knowing he needed to concentrate on this book and its contents; knowing it just may just make or break this situation, Severus scanned the grounds and decided to head for a small space by the greenhouse which had carved stone benches and an outcropping of shade trees.

Slowly, he read. When he was done, he turned to the front of the page again and stared at the index. Although it had been bookmarked to the page with this spell under which Severus and Hermione were placed, there were several others. He went back to the page containing the _Wahrheit _curse. He flipped back and forth, first page, then the spell in question, turning the thoughts in his head upside down, first to last, and every angle he could think of while his contemplation took place, viewing every facet of the spell like some rare jewel.

Oddly enough, although Albus script was inside this book, he was certain that it wasn't Albus' to begin with. There was another, foreign, script which he could not place. The original owner of this book wrote My Favorite Spells on the very first page.

Upon first glance, the script was of a younger hand. Perhaps even as young as some of his older students. He frowned in distaste automatically due to this association, and knowing what the particular spell he was now a party to, was rather angered by the author and their sick sense of humor at adding _this _to a group of favorite _anything_. This spell was nothing more than cruel, to Miss Granger as well as himself. From Albus' account, it seems that it was cast by some childish wizard with the flippancy of playing a game of spin the bottle. And the recklessness and smugness of it, angered him.

Severus then thought of Albus, who was in his mind the kindest and gentlest of men, albeit most powerful, he had ever known. To know that the person Dumbledore loved was this cruel conjured up many uncomfortable questions about the man he obviously knew very little, in this new light. Sexuality is one thing, and that he had no desire to contemplate at this second.

The mind, he knew well, wanted what it wanted.

As long as it wasn't predatory, to desire any certain aspect of sex was very much understood. Arousal by certain stimuli being more acute than others, depending on each individual. He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of Hermione and her staring straight into his eyes in the mirror, the memory of which she pounded into his brain. He tried to push that memory back from the fore. Sweet Merlin, her choices in persuasion were the very ones that made his synapses fire rapidly.

What bothered Severus about Albus' obvious love for this viciously sadistic _other_ just seemed extreme. It was as if cupid fell in love with Satan, and it truly was a distraction. He had to put his ponderings about his mentor aside and concentrate on the spell itself.

Severus then scanned several of the other spells, which were, in his mind, rather complex and had the undercurrent of powerful magic. Genius, he begrudgingly admitted. And methodical, too. This wizard was obviously a stickler for semantics and result-driven.

Severus' stomach now turned, so empty it cramped on itself. But he still had another task before him. Just a quick bite, he told himself. He decided to make his way to the kitchens, using a side-passage in the castle which appeared as he approached. The corridor led past his classroom, and as he turned the corner, he spied Hermione huddled on the floor, squeezed into the small nook where door jamb met door.

Beside her a small feast heaped on plates awaited, and she looked up at him. Her body quaked, yet she stayed silent. The ravages of the tremor subsided momentarily, only to rack her body in full force the next second.

Severus knew only too well what that kind of spasm felt like. It was Cruciatus. It was seizure. It was pain. There were no tears from her. No whimpers.

He noticed how she took her torture, and felt an admiration well up within him. Her tell-tale signs being the sinews in her neck working to keep her jaw fixed shut.

"I brought these, figuring you were as famished as me." She finally was able to churn out from between her trembling lips. Two substantial plates were heaped with food, one savory, one filled with breads and muffins. Severus waited for her to situate herself on her feet before opening his locked rooms for her to enter.

As she stood, shaking, he noticed she was cradling a carafe in her arms. As soon as he was near enough, she inhaled deeply. sighing, "And tea.", as if her pain receded. He levitated the plates to the table. Wearily he noted that her eyes had that same look as before. The half-lidded, dreamy look which he wondered about how quickly they would turn wild as they did before.

Severus couldn't help but be angered that she was plagued by this.

Setting the carafe at the table, she quickly set places for both of them on a lab table, and began nipping at a steaming hot chip pinched between two fingers as she divvied the food between them. Severus eyed the table, noting that they were all his favorites like she did with the toasted cheese she had made him before, and he scrutinized her as she looked up, obviously pleased. "The tea is jasmine, too. I asked for it because I know its your favorite-"

"And how would you know anything about me?" He snapped at her, his voice harsh.

Instantly, Severus regretted his tone, knowing that the stress was affecting them both, but her discomfort was exponentially worse.

She stopped mid-pour and straightened upright. "Because I-" He could see her chewing her words before self-censuring enough to continue, "care about you, and made a bloody effort to know everything I could about you."

"Oh," Hermione continued quietly, regaining her command of their meal preparation, "and there is the fact that I've remembered every snippet of every conversation, with every person I've met who has ever mentioned anything about you…" She gasped, sucking in air to continue in her soft, obviously hurt voice, "And then there's my own personal observation, of course. How your breath smells of jasmine on days that you seem more relaxed. How you obviously have a habit of using your robes to wipe your oily, salted fingers. And on those days I can smell the malt and fish, and notice that your waistcoat gets a little more snug. Or that I cleaned up a quarter of a toasted cheese on your research one morning, that I assume you had left the night before…"

She frowned; her pride faltering, "From reading your published papers. All of them. Even those published under your penname, Archibald Barasoll, which I found quite rather base…I mean, really, Severus, 'Itchy bald, bare asshole', which I KNEW was what you were hinting at, for shame…. And I've quizzed every house elf as to what you order and when, in order to 'serve my potion master better' as my guise, long before this no-good curse."

Severus blinked with a shocked-silent expression. Not disagreeing, not denying. Most definitely blind-sided by her reveal. "And how your eyebrow raises with each bite of food you take, which I believe is a pinched nerve you should have checked. And how your neck gets red when you have a migraine. And how I love when you smile, and hate that you've evaded exactly thirteen war-related Ministry functions where I am left to chatter with others in order to fill the void I feel when you aren't there, and I know that I learned all these things about you because, even if you don't let me know the real you, at least I made the effort to learn as many of your facets as I can."

Hermione finally sat and began to devour with relish every morsel on her plate. She kept her eyes averted, and chewed each bite thoroughly, trying to regain her composure while concentrating on the taste of her food as if it were going to be her last meal.

She reached the half-way mark and finally saw a whir of black and then Severus taking his place for their meal.

Half way through _his_ lunch, he slapped his eyebrow, realizing that Hermione was, in fact, correct about that, too.

"See?" She whispered to her chips.

sshg

She waited silently until he finished, and then when he dabbed his mouth and wiped his finger on his napkin, she quietly said, "Thank you."

"Whatever for? I was not very nice earlier to you." Severus replied after a very short hesitation.

"For eating with me. For being with me. The minute I Apparated away from you, I've been…under duress."

Severus felt the pressure in his throat, remembering how he found her suffering from the tremors which seemed to instantly disappear when he arrived.

"When you are around, I feel just like the description in that book…Like I'm not going to die. How's that for 'needy, clingy stalker'?" She tried to be cavalier about her situation, but was failing miserably. Her smile faltered on the left side of her face, and he could read the pain.

"I need to see that book." She finally leveled her gaze at him.

Severus carefully placed the book on the table between them and slid it toward her, retracting his hand as she made a movement to pick it up. It was a near miss, he noted, as he watched her disappointment shimmer across her face.

And then Hermione read the passage. And read it again. And vacillated between the front page and the passages again, only to murmur, "Sick fucker. Nice favorite." She placed the book down and slid it back to him.

Walking to where she knew he stored his lesser quality scrolls, she gathered a few and began to write notes at the desk.

Severus watched her. As hard as he tried, he could not imagine the world without her all-encompassing presence.

In those moments, he watched her brush her hair back from her face, and silently sip her tea, and flip her flat shoes on and off of her heel to make that infernal 'fhup' noise. Transfixed, Severus realized that she had infiltrated his life so completely that if she would suddenly be plucked from this earth, he would be affected in every aspect of his life.

His throat constricted, and he felt a pressure in his face that he couldn't explain. His eyes watered, though he swore that it was impossible for him to get teary-eyed, but he needed to turn away from her as he stifled the thought of reestablishing a solitary existence.

Yes, she was just his apprentice, and he felt guilty that he heaped such high expectation upon her, but Severus wholeheartedly wanted to continue interacting with her long after he handed Hermione her papers.

The woman's wit was acerbic. Her intellect was very, very much welcomed in his research, and conversation with her in those moments that weren't work-related he coveted, sometimes placed in his pensieve for later enjoyment. Uncomfortable as it was, he admitted that he would feel bereft where she to….

Hermione cleared her throat softly, trying to gain his attention. "Could you look at this?" She had her scroll rolled back up and held it out tentatively.

Severus took a deep breath instinctively, which normally would help him ground himself, but in her presence, her scent filled his nose and made him feel slightly intoxicated. He turned and held out his hand, but stayed where was, wanting her to bring the papers to him. Severus found he didn't quite trust his feet.

"Our research has been completely useless, and I had to get this down before I burst. At least most of it is out of my head, and we can continue researching if you don't think this is a possible avenue to pursue." Hermione shifted on her feet, swaying toward him and away, reminiscent of her younger self.

Severus shot her a look to halt her antsy jittering and then began reading, realizing that Hermione had begun to draw up Arithmantic equations on the curse.

Her notes were filled with arrows cross-referencing numbers in the margin, and he felt his feet suddenly carrying him toward his desk. The pointer finger of his left hand held his place while his right followed the arrows to the other passages. While he hadn't had practice on Arithmancy in a long time, it was once his _other_ strong suit. Soon, the numbers began to form mathematical sentences in his head, and then the comprehension of what she was working on dawned on him, washing over him very much like good prose.

He grabbed his quill and began scratching his own notes, realizing that this brilliant woman had the makings of a viable solution. Although her notes were, at this stage, incomplete, the ideas she had captured in script were definitely worth merit.

He fought to squelch his pride in her, as well as his hope for her; Hermione's initial findings unearthing a hidden pocket of optimism from some unknown place within him.

"Well, Miss Granger," Severus hesitated, weighing whether or not praise would set precedence.

"While we shouldn't discontinue our research, I do believe that your theories here might be worth exploring-"

That is when the air was completely knocked from his lungs.

Severus found himself encircled in a vice-like hug, Hermione's laughter and delight unleashed upon him like some swarm of butterflies; dazzling and overwhelming. In the moment of impact, Severus arms grabbed around her automatically, but now having her there, her head perfectly tucked under his chin, her giggles rumbling deep in his chest due to both being crushed together, his body instinctively clutched her there instead of propelling her from him.

Although his hands had the opposite idea-his fingertips shooting toward the ceiling, the palms of his hands motioning _stop_, his arms constricted, drawing her closer and impossibly closer still.

In her heated ambush, her body collided with his, knocking the wind from his lungs, and made him draw air as well as her scent deep into himself. And he was completely overrun with her. He felt his chest expand and heat up with her enticing scent, chin angling so he could rut his nose in the dense curls of her hair. Taking her in as sustenance and in ways he had never thought to even dream of, Severus failed to realize that the brief encounter was becoming more and more momentous with each tick of the grand clock hidden in the shadows.

He instantaneously needed more. Needed his fill. Needed….truly needed her. Her body molding so completely to him that he felt nothing but warmth, comfort and the building need to lose himself more completely.

Hermione used her chin to nudge his cheek aside and found a spot so pale she was sure she had never seen it before. It was there, where his collar and his neck met that she kissed him. And like finding a chink in a warrior's armor, she was able to take Severus Snape down.

She felt his knees buckle, and she deepened the kiss there, darting her tongue along his pulse, the sinew astride that pulse, impulsively dragging her teeth along the trail her tongue left, breathing heavily over the wetted spots as she went. Down they went until she felt him literally kneeling before her. Hermione straddled him, locking her knees to his waist, twining her arms around his neck before placing a hesitant kiss upon his lips.

In her brain, somewhere, triggered an odd response she had no time to analyze as she both registered her body in overdrive, while her brain finally felt at ease. It was, for her, the exact opposite of her daily life, and as experienced more and more of Severus' skin, the anxiety that had been wracking her nerves was beginning to dissolve.

With his collar undone, she had the distinct feeling that they would succeed. With the trail of fine black hair on his abdomen, she felt as if her tongue had no better place to be, nor any better task, and the sigh he made as she shrugged out of her clothes was the most important utterance she had ever heard.

Before he could protest, as she knew was coming, Hermione's agile hands him freed and with that, she was atop him once again, her cry of victory ringing in both their ears as she sheathed him completely.

Severus broke his promise the moment he gripped her hips, and at that moment knew he would be happy to break anything, bones, the law, defy the laws of gravity just to keep her slick warmth around him. But he was going to die right there on the floor with this beautiful goddess constricting around him if she didn't begin to move. His body began drawing her forward and urging her back, his back, abdomen and thighs all working to help her in her quest. He felt the tightness inside him, the need to quickly come undone being fuelled by the feelings she was giving him, but just the sight of her was enough to make it unbearably difficult to prolong the inevitable.

He watched her pleasure herself with him. The look of bliss sweeping across her face like a blaze. Her arousal and need flickering within that bliss every time she made eye contact, feeding the flames which stoked in the place where they connected. And on her face there were more feelings shown by her gaze with which he was truly unaccustomed. Severus believed that he would never be able to fully name them with accuracy if it weren't for her extollment.

"I've never wanted anyone as much as you, Severus." She breathed as she grazed over his chest, her hips rising and falling, never once losing tempo with his pushing and pulling. "_Yes_, just like _that_, you _feel _so _good_ inside me, so _thick _and _long._" she continued with each thrust of his hips upward to meet her. "Come inside me, Severus. I've wanted you to fill me for so long." He heard her fevered pitch, saw and heard her breathing becoming ragged, and felt Hermione's tightness cinching tighter still.

"Are you going to-?" He asked, his voice sending tremors through her, instantly giving him the answer with her cries.

Severus felt the sheer strength of her orgasm. feeling the rippling around his whole length as her body did as it was designed to do, drawing deeper, seeking his contribution. Severus, experiencing Hermione in such a different way, a timeless and true way, so profound and complete that with her spiraling pleasure, his body could do nothing but comply. He gritted his teeth and held her hips tightly as he all but arched off the floor, his release jetting deep into her as her screams heralded her joy, her body taking and taking as much of him as it could hold.

Once he felt the last of his own orgasm, he slowly lowered himself to the floor and loosened his grip on her. With the pixie-light weight of her on top of him, and with him still fully ensconced within her depths, came the avalanche of reality.

Hermione watched Severus' face as he came inside her. Her heart felt as if it would burst from the pride and joy and pleasure. She knew that until the day she died, she would only want to see his face, feel his body, be the reason he wore the look he had that very instant, and only for her.

She saw his need morph into attainment. Struggle give way to triumph. Desperation to fulfillment. She watched as the aggravation of the last few days, no, the aggravation that he always wore for as long as she had known him disappear, and his features only showed contentment and peace. Hermione saw joy.

And when his body stilled for that last second before they both touched ground, she knew she saw his mouth and eyes grace her with the most beautiful depiction of happiness she had ever seen.

Just as quickly, it was snatched away, and she saw his face contort with the stirrings of anguish, and the crushing blow of…she struggled to define what was that look was….

Before she would let him crush the moment for her, she swept her hands toward her clothing, unseating her from his lap simultaneously. She stood, looking down at him, and still felt exactly the same way as before. Even the thought of leaving the room and away from him made Hermione reel with panic. "Well, as much as I loved every second, our most exhilarating romp didn't cure me. Thank you for the fuck of my life, at least I can die knowing that you were better than I ever dreamed of." Slapping her hand over her mouth, she dashed out of the room.

Alone and rumpled, and completely shaking from exertion, Severus raised his head as far as it would go to watch her leave and then let it crash back down in order to focus on the pain of his rattled skull than to deal with the fallout of their encounter.


	9. Chapter 9

_Please review. It is like ambrosia from the gods. Yup, and now for something completely different._

The Devil Within Chapter 9

Hermione tried to keep her composure as she stumbled the few short steps to her own rooms. Each footfall further from him was excruciating, both physically and mentally. Her sense of panic barely contained, Hermione scanned her memory to figure out just why she was still afflicted.

She had gotten exactly what she wanted. Wanted for such a long time. But it didn't cure her. Her heart's desire and she was still trapped in this mess.

She stumbled a she recalled the recent memory of him, the smell of his skin and how his muscles moved underneath it as he held her tight, his sweat, the feel of him inside her. She could still feel her body's afterglow; the throbbing of her ebbing orgasm still very much present while the pain of her distance from him increased.

_Why didn't it work? _Hermione's body trembled fiercely from the shattering pain. Even with her eyes threatening to tear, she refused to succumb to terror. Obviously, the text she read was wrong. Even though she finally had him, the cure in that book was somehow incorrect. She knew deep within her heart just how much she wanted him. She knew that he was the subject of all her most wanton and illicit desires. She dived deeper into herself, only to find that he was the center of not only those desires but for just about every desire, simple or complex. He was her friend. Ideal companion. She thought of him as her perfect match.

_The spell should have been broken! I should be free from this, damn it! _Hermione analyzed, rubbing her hips where she could still feel where his fingertips dug into her.

Just the thought of his fingers had her body reacting.

She felt the tightening of her muscles…and still dripping his seed from her, she flung herself onto her bed. She quickly shoved both of her hands between her legs, breathing deeply to catch his scent still covering her. Focusing solely on one spot, she strained and held her breath until she shuddered again violently.

Bringing herself quickly to climax temporarily abated the crackling electricity that seemed to zing through her body when he wasn't present, but all too soon, she felt her desire and need multiply within her like a virus. The jolts of electricity increased in its amperage and time until it was a constant, agonizing stream.

She felt as if it was devouring her sanity. She couldn't even find a safe place in her mind to shut the pain out.

Even when she was tortured by that bitch, she was able to fabricate a safe haven in her mind, but when she tried to find respite now, she realized that she couldn't escape.

What Hermione had never told another soul was that, while being tortured, her mind began racing through every person she knew, searching for a vision of strength, of protection, of determination and courage…there were a few vague images of her friends, but the one who her psyche glommed onto for a fixed point was Severus Snape.

When the knife carved her skin, she heard his voice soothing her, whispering to her so quietly that she had to strain and focus to hear his words. The deeper the blade sunk into her skin, the more his secrets caressed her, applied salves and balms to her, his arms encircling her and wrapping her tightly in his warmth. And when blackness overtook her completely, she welcomed it, because in her mind, he was there.

And he was still there now. Inescapable. All-encompassing and ever present. And in her safe place now, he waited-an impatient lover with an insatiable need for her.

Sshg

Severus reeled at the pain where his head bounced off the stone on the floor, dizzy with not only the intense stab of pain, but also the maelstrom of what just happened. His legs shook as he drew himself up onto them, and he straightened himself out, feeling spent from their… engagement? Soiree? Frenzied and unsolicited surprise fuck?

He refused to hate himself for breaking his promise to Molly and Arthur Weasley and Hermione as well as to himself. His anger and hatred were squarely centered on Ronald Weasley and his resentment for Dumbledore swelled for getting the cure wrong, which completely shook Severus. Albus was pretty much a sure bet, as far as inklings went. Unless….

Unless there was someone else she wanted.

Unless he was just the closest person she fancied, but not necessarily the only one.

He felt the muscles in his jaw clench. It felt as if his teeth were going to shatter from the sheer pressure, second-guessing that she could feel _that way _toward someone else too.

Severus leveled his wand at the spot where they had just….he still couldn't even quite take the idea of classifying what happened …and blasted the stones on fire. The small conflagration, contained in that patch of floor soon burnt itself out, having nothing to catch in its snare, leaving nothing but a scorch mark.

It took a moment of pause, but Severus had all too soon realized that the reason he felt such vicious anger because he let her get inside.

The thought of being vulnerable to her, whether it be to her whims, or to her scrutiny, if there was any falseness inside of her, well, he'd be leaving himself wide open to that too. If she suddenly took it upon herself to completely change her mind about him, he would have just set himself up, part and parcel, for the whole thing.

And Severus, while no means decrepit, was far too old, he admonished himself, to be opening his heart to what was, in all of his previous attempts, sheer heartbreak.

_What was I thinking? _Severus paced, asking himself over and over again. Although it had only been, what? Two days? It felt like months…Two days and the thought of Hermione being with or wanting someone other than him was nearly crippling.

Something deep within him broke free, tearing at its gag to scream that he had felt this way much longer than just two days. Angered at being silenced so long, that part of him screamed and continued, deciding to add words like 'complacent' and 'self-delusional' before his conscious mind locked it away again.

He tamped down the rage, and hostility, realizing…hoping… that perhaps she was as true, and that Albus had just made the most direct assumption on what had broken the curse albeit erroneously.

Severus changed, realizing that his clothes smelled like sex, a scent he had to resist smothering his face in one more time. Not only that, but he would look like some harelquin who happened to get the costume wrong, being black on the front and white on the back as opposed to right and left from the dirt he obviously swept off of the floor with his back.

Shaking the thoughts of her giving him the best, mind-exploding, sack-emptying nut of his life, he squared himself in front of the mirror, put on his game face, and decided that now was the time to confront Albus.

Sshg

"You were wrong, old man!" Severus couldn't help but announce his entrance to Dumbledore's office in this way. As much as he wanted to bellow the statement indignantly, it came out as a hushed incrimination.

Albus looked up from his seat and noted Severus' change, albeit ever so slight that it was barely perceptible. The pink hue high on Severus' cheeks was worthly of note, as was his almost-completely-veiled swagger as he strode into the room and threw himself into the nearest upholstered chair.

"No, Severus, I was not." Albus calmly replied.

Severus' body grew rigid, obviously angered by the statement, but Albus refused to expound. Reading someone's body language is one thing, but he needed Severus' mind to ask the questions at this point.

Severus' head dropped slightly, staring off into the distance at the roaring fire in the fireplace. "It can't be. It just cannot."

"Everything I wrote in that account was true. It was accurate. I have spent years in my Pensieve mulling over that week. Every moment. And what the Pensieve doesn't show, I can still recall here," he placed his hand over her his heart, "and in every fiber of my body." Sympathetically, but firmly, Albus continued, "How long do you have left?"

Severus looked out the window, "If she was cursed immediately before she entered my lab, we are ending day two. Perhaps into day three already. I can't be sure since I wasn't quite able to hold a civil conversation with Ronald Weasley, the runt who cast this spell." Severus frowned at the view. Waiting for Albus to speak, he waited to hear what Dumbledore had to say.

"And I would suppose that your…attempt at removing the curse…mirrored my account?" Albus now stood astride of Severus, looking out over the grounds.

"If you are asking if we-" Severus mouth and eyes closed. Uncomfortable was just the skim-coat of what he was feeling. "Yes, Albus. We did."

"And where is she now?"

"I would assume she is in her chambers. I will be checking in on her, since she said that she was distressed when we were apart, just hours ago." Severus could feel the sympathetic eyes of Albus bearing down on him, be he couldn't face it at the moment.

Albus crossed over to his desk and picked up a parcel. "I received this by owl just a few minutes ago." He placed the small bundle in Severus' soon as Severus saw the name on the parcel, he tore at the paper to unveil the contents. In his hands was another book. A note from Bill Weasley was tucked inside the front cover.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I am appalled at my brother's actions, and even moreso at myself for trusting that my things would be safe around him given his nature. Please accept my apology, as well as my offer to come and assist you in whatever means necessary in order to reverse this curse._

_Although it was my first reaction, I have stifled the urge to fly over to the school in order to assist in the curse's reversal, and await either your invitation or declination. I am at your disposal,_

_Sincerely._

_William Weasley _

_p.s. Although I realize you are more than capable at doling out punishment, my other siblings and I are anxiously awaiting your response. As we have a full house at the moment, THE "dunderhead" is under a sort of house arrest. _

_Even though what we have devised for (him so) far is pale compared to what he deserves, please know that his visit home is, shall we say, as unpleasant as four angry older brothers and one seething younger sister can possibly make it._

Severus let the missive fall and felt the cobbled leather of the bound text. Instinctively, he held up the book to show Albus who tensed otherwise stood still. It was a simple leather-bound book, his fingertips could feel the richness of it. It was sensuous and powerful, and it all but purred as Severus ran his fingers over it. He stifled the urge to close his eyes and draw out the seductive expectancy of what he would find in this book, but the knowledge of the ticking clock made him ruffle the pages until he saw the heading he needed.

The spell was exactly the same. Every word, every scratch of script. It could have been copied via dicto-quill.

The insight, though, as to why it was chosen was apparent.

This was so private an account that it made for an uncomfortable read, but he suffered though it anyway, hoping to glean something…anything…helpful.

With grievous sigh upon finishing, Severus pressed the book firmly into Albus' hand before walking out.

Sshg

It was seldom that Severus Snape haphazardly tore through his private stores.

As he ticked off the list in his head, Severus began harvesting the bottles he had gleaned from his supplies. Dreamless Sleep might have a detrimental affect on her. If he drugged her to that extent, he wouldn't be able to revive her in an emergency or bad interaction.

Also he didn't know if he would end up hurting her more, if it did in fact, temporarily stop the effects of the curse only to find out that it built up under-pressure, and watch its effects pour violently from her the minute she was revived.

Calming Draught might just be the thing to take the edge off of her. He began creating the elixir as well as its "antidote", for safe measure.

Having both the draught and the ability to reverse it if needed had Severus back in control of his fraying nerves.

As he brewed, Severus reflected on the current situation.

He was so thoroughly wrapped up in this predicament that he hadn't really had a moment to center himself. Early on in his spying days, he realized that he was in the periphery which gave him precious time in which to process all that was happening around him…but with this…with her….He was at the center of this, and the only fixed point on which to focus was Hermione. The blur of time and events around them was really just that. The shift of his perception from being a sole entity to the fact that he now focused on them as a unit, was a bit of a shocking discovery and he wondered just when that happened.

Bottling the two liquids, Severus ignored that pain in his chest. As he walked toward her door, he decided that if he was suffering from a muggle heart attack, the point was moot, but if the pain was what he suspected it might be, well then, he was just going to have to suffer through it.

From his recollection, no one ever died directly from that particular ailment.

Sshg

He found her in her bed, her eyes softening their gaze at him as her body relaxed under the bedding. Her face was flush with a sheen of perspiration and her mischievous grin said volumes as to her activities. "You missed quite a bit of fun, Severus. Would you like me to start over again? I'd love for you to help, but wouldn't mind if you just wanted to watch." With one hand, she began peeling away the blanket, exposing her naked form to him.

"I want you to drink this. It is a Calming Draught." Severus held it out to her, waiting for her to take it from him.

She knelt slowly in her bed, and he watched as her body languidly flowed into position. Such a juxtaposition from the contortions he saw her in as he walked through the door. He was still trying to quell his hardness that he was obviously afflicted with upon his first glance into the room. Thanking the logical part of his brain, his robes covered his discomfort, feeling the throb painfully sawing against the seam of his trousers.

"Drink."

Hermione grasped the small beaker in her hand and tipped it between her lips, swallowing until it was empty. Her smile smoothed out and she plopped back onto the bed with much less finesse. Severus walked to her wardrobe and picked out a simple nightgown from the selection. One, he noted with relief was a thicker cloth and long enough to cover her from neck to ankle.

Carefully, he placed the garment over her head and then tugged it dutifully in place. One small press to her shoulder and she was lying back down, tiny against the large fluffy pillows that she slept upon. She curled to her side and drew her knees up to her chest, snuggling deep but resting her face on her hands in order to give her enough space to breathe and see Severus standing there. "What do we do now?"

"You sleep." Severus replied as he fished out her scrolls from his robes and sat at the small desk she had next to her bed. "I'll continue where you left off." Drawing the chair out, he sat in it. After several minutes of complete agony, he finally resized it to accommodate his long limbs. Then he resized the desk itself. Then he called the elves to bring him some tea and more candles. Then for his reading glasses.

"If this continues, I'm going to bind your tongue to the roof of your mouth, Severus." Hermione mumbled as she drifted off to sleep. She didn't hear his undignified snort at her comment as she took to uncharacteristically loud snoring, which made Severus contemplate if he should use that same bit of magic on her instead.

During the hours, Hermione spoke freely. She was chatty even in her sleep, and it was strange that her voice bore none of the sluggishness which would usually alert another party of talking in one's sleep. She was coherent and concise.

"No, Ron, he isn't. He can't be. I don't believe it."

"Hmmmm. Please…right there…Oh, Severus…."

It was agonizing to hear her moans, ranging from pain to bliss in ample measure. Occasionally he would stop to watch her, tug the blankets back over her shoulder, sometimes pulling an errant hair out of her mouth or smooth it away from face.

But at one point before dawn, he thought he was sleeping when he heard her whispering, "Drink this. Please don't die. Please! Shhhh. Drink this, please!. He stood above her, disbelieving it as he watched her sleeping form reenact her actions.

Her one hand clamping down on the pillow, the other pouring an imaginary flask, and Severus remembered. There, on a filthy floor, the same words being spoken in the dark. It was the same voice that he swore he heard as he flitted in and out of consciousness that night.

He jumped back when she shot to her knees with lightening speed, eyes screwed shut and gathered that same pillow tightly into her lap cradling it and stroking it the same way he remembered. The tingling in his face, pin pricks of his senses realizing that it was her touch. Her touch which kept him from sliding irreversibly into shock and permanent darkness.

His fingers ghosted his lips as he watched this play before him. "Please don't die on me…please don't die, don't leave!" She continued to whisper until she started to grasp at the sheets with her other hand. Finding her dream-wand, swishing it around her and screaming, "Please! He's been bitten….severe blood loss…DON'T TOUCH HIM….go get a Mediwizard you imbecile!"

Hermione's face was contorted in worry and pain, still whispering, "Don't you leave me…you hear me? Don't leave!" He wiped his brow at the wetness he could still feel to this day. He thought _then_ he was still on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Thought in his incoherent state that perhaps it was raining, but _now, _watching her, he knew it was her tears that wetted his face. It wasn't a leaky roof, he had rationalized, that kept an annoyingly steady drip on his forehead at all.

She dropped back into her bed, sobbing, spent and inconsolable. "No, oh no…oh no…." Her body curled into a tight ball. "You'll never know!" Her body shivered as she continued, now a silent quake of pure sadness.

Before he realized what he had done, Severus had gathered her into his arms, pulled her onto his lap as he pushed himself back against the headboard, and rocked her. Shushing gently into her hair until her whimpering body relaxed back into slumber.

When Hermione awoke, she was blissfully warm and ensconced in her blankets, a cup of tea steaming on her bedside table. The smell of butter, cinnamon and honey on toast was her wake-up call, and she stretched. Mid-stretch, she felt the soft, thick weight of what she realized was Severus' warm robes, but he was nowhere to be seen.


	10. Chapter 10

The Devil Within Chapter 10

_Glib_.

There was no other word Severus could use to describe how he felt at this precise moment. Unaccustomed to the feeling, especially ascribing the word "glib" to anything associated with himself, he felt free as his strides took him on a quick stroll around the lake.

He was sure that within a day or two, he and Miss Granger would have found their way around this curse. Curing her and putting an end to this insanity. He was as sure of her feelings for him now, not understanding them at all, yet acknowledging their validity.

Once they were free of this, he decided to let fate have her merry way with them both. He would take his time. He would court her. He would let them both explore the newness and the pleasure in—

He heard the crack and spun; his wand already pointed at the source. In that brief second before casting any spell, he recognized the witch as she barreled toward him.

Severus, however, kept his wand at the ready by his side, seeing Molly Weasley in such an alarming state, he bristled at whether not aiming was going to cost him his life.

Molly bore down on him like a Dementor, a wraith, some wild thing feral and angry…and she was already screaming at him as she bolted toward him.

_No wand in her hands. No wand in her hands_. He stood still, catching snatches of her wild rant, watching her to see if she were going to do him harm.

"Not another one of mine!" She was crying. Frantic. She stopped just a few paces shy, sobbing, "Severus, please! I don't want another one of my children to die!"

"I will not harm your boy, Molly-" Severus held up his hands, trying to motion her to calm down.

She looked at him confused, like he was speaking a foreign language, before she realized that he didn't understand anything she said from the apparition point to here. "Hermione, Severus. I don't want HER to die!" Her trembling hands clutched his sleeve and she began dragging him toward the castle.

"Molly, stop. We are making progress-"

"You don't understand! He did this to her FIVE DAYS AGO, Severus! I don't care if you have to get down on your knees and beg her to marry you. I don't care if you sire a quidditch team in front of me, YOU HEAR ME! Please…you just save-" He could hear the pain as it constricted her vocal cords, already worn and frayed. She couldn't continue, but he was already running, somehow realizing that he had Molly Weasley in tow.

Molly Weasley.

In tow.

Her hand tightly gripped in his, and he wasn't even trying to shrug her off of him. Somehow he knew if he let go of Molly Weasley's hand at this moment, his whole world would uncontrollably spin until it burst into fragments.

Somehow this woman was channeling his own feelings and projecting them into the universe, and he held fast, squeezing as tightly as he thought she could bear, perhaps tighter, he couldn't tell. In an odd way, her wails comforted him. Never had he felt a kinship for any of the Weasley clan, but this—the most gentle of battleaxes—was here by his side in hopes of saving Hermione.

Her body was in full seizure when he barged into the room. Finally, Molly's and his hand broke free from one another. He scrambled over scrolls, just a glance made him realize that even in her condition, she was trying to write notes, although he couldn't decipher any of it as being legible. The jagged scratches on the paper mimicked his heart rate as he scooped her into his arms.

Severus felt Hermione's body go limp for a moment, only to have her grab him with both hands and crush herself to his chest. It was a gasp for breath, as if she couldn't breathe during her fit, and she labored to tell him what was happening. "Miscalculation" Gasping, "So sorry!" Another set of inhales, and her tremors started to increase yet again, even with him holding her. With a new lungful of breath, Hermione finally churned out, "I fought it, Severus. I don't want to die with my fingers in my knickers." She tried to joke about it as the tears begin to flow down her face. Her body stiffened, and her smile morphed into a grimace. He could see her fading. His heart was trying to beat out his chest as he saw he had only seconds.

Knowing death so well is a double edged sword.

"NO!" Severus gripped her head and looked her full in the eye. "You aren't going to die, Hermoine. I will be damned if I let you leave me here awash in a sea of dolts!" She was slipping further, he could feel her going. "Please! Hermione. Stay!" He gathered her up and squeezed her to him, his face buried deep in her hair. "I couldn't take it if—Hermione, Please, I love you. Don't leave me here alone."

He kept murmuring, feeling her body go limp completely in his arms. He knew she was gone. He felt a hand on his back, the warm, small, soothing hand of Molly Weasley, and he gripped even tighter to Hermione, and in the forest of her hair, he wept unashamed. Grieving as he bared his soul in whispers to Hermione's ear.

From Molly's point of view, it looked as if Severus and Hermione were in a lover's embrace, hearing Severus whispering what sounded like whispers of undying love and unyielding devotion, but as she averted her eyes, she saw Hermione's upturned hand, lying still on the covers. Molly had to turn her back to the scene, staring at the sun dipping lower in the sky.

She couldn't see them, although she couldn't quite remove her hand from Severus's shoulder, as if rubbing small circles on it could ever erase the pain.

It was the second hand on his back that alarmed Severus, He felt it run from his hip, slowly up his side. He grabbed at the source, at the same moment breaking his death-grip on Hermione to look at her. It could only be her hand moving from that angle, and Severus looked down at the half-lidded appraisal staring back up at him.

He sputtered in disbelief, and gently cradled her head back in his hands. His tears rolled down, wetting her cheek and lips, and she weakly smiled, "Thanks, I was thirsty."

Molly's joyful cries went unheard by the couple on the bed.

Severus barked out a sobbing noise only to pull her to him. He rocked slowly once, twice, and on the third time, he gently reached forward to the small glass of water on the bedside table. Offering her small sips, he alternated between kissing her on the top of her head and slowly rocking with his body as he cradled her. "I don't understand how it happened, but I am most pleased you are still here, and am not about to complain."

Hermione emptied the glass eventually, and slid her hand ever-so-gently to his face, positioning it to look into his eyes now. "I love you too, Severus." To which his only reply was a slow and gentle kiss.

At one point, the two regained their bearings, and realized that they weren't alone in the room. Severus bristled slightly, but Hermione's hand on his arm kept those negative thoughts at bay. The couple silently viewed the man before them.

At some point, Molly must have left, and now Albus Dumbledore stood to the right of the door, the small book clutched between two hands as he read from it like scripture. His was not a face of mirth at this moment, but of dawning understanding.

It was not the act that followed that had saved his life those many years ago, but the declaration itself the key. Had the words…the sincere words…not been said aloud, no amount of intercourse would have saved him.

And while Albus realized that Severus had finally found true love in this lovely young woman, his heart couldn't fully rejoice for the two.

If this was the case, then….

Albus shook off his realization and focused on the pair.

Hermione was tucked under the covers, Severus perched slightly behind her, one foot still anchored to the floor as his arms ensconced the recovering lady—a long set of cradling arms her pillow and brace from the outside world. "If you two need anything, you know how to reach me." And with that, he walked to the bedside table, fished out two large bars of chocolate after much to-do from his robes, and gave the briefest of smiles before wandering out of the room to ponder his own history.

Epilogue

Hermione dragged her father up the aisle, gave him a peck on the cheek and all but shoved him back toward the first aisle where her mother, and Molly and Arthur sat.

She giggled as she bounded up the two small stairs to the altar where Severus waited for her. His grin was barely contained as she took his hands in hers and looked on to Albus to get started, eagerness clearly written all over her face.

Severus noted the blush on her cheeks was definitely real as it went from pink dusting to a blossoming red. He knew she was happy; her smile unstoppable and all because they were finally going to be wed and they'd be ready to make good on all those fevered promises they'd made hourly since her recovery months prior. She whispered that revelation into his ear before they parted for the night, just before she went to bed.

He felt a pride he had never before felt as she gazed at him, flashes of devotion, and love, and desire hit him in waves as she gazed deeply into his eyes.

Albus wasn't quite finished reciting the full incantation for their hand-fasting when Hermione impatiently tugged at Severus' hands, pulling him closer to her. Obviously in her opinion they were done, and rolled up onto her tiptoes in order to deliver a very promising kiss.

In the small gathering totaling all of seven, Severus allowed himself to fully experience and enjoy this public display with his loving wife, unabashedly and whole-heartedly.


End file.
